


The Wedding

by Bucksbegins



Category: British Royalty RPF, Soul Eater
Genre: But technically they are a valid couple here, F/M, Fluff, It's so funny to tag the Royals, Royal Wedding, literally just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 05:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bucksbegins/pseuds/Bucksbegins
Summary: Is Maka really the type of girl to get up at 6am to watch a Royal Wedding? You'd be surprised... And so would Soul.





	The Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> In spirit of this morning's Royal Wedding inspired me to write this short fluff fic about new couple Soul and Maka getting up at 6am to watch Harry and Meghan get married (I know in Nevada it would have been like 3am, but early morning felt a lot more intimate). I really recommend that you guys check out Better by Tom Baxter (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6rQoFQJrUTM) which played in a compilation video for Meghan and Harry at the end of the BritBox wedding broadcast (which the broadcast their watching is inspired by).

Soul rolled over in his bed, his eyes still glued closed, but his ears attentive to the faint noises he heard outside of his room.

He ran a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes before cracking them open. Soul squinted out of his window at the still pre-dawn light that turned Death City grey. He furrowed his eyebrows, turning and finding his clock blinking 6:12.

He groaned a little and shoved his head into his pillow. His ears caught the noises again, sure it was the television, but unsure why it would be on at a godforsaken time like this.

His grumble was muffled by the pillow, but he pushed himself up and onto the edge of his bed, sighing and grabbing a shirt.

Soul was tugging it on as he shuffled into the kitchen, finding the TV flashing through pictures of castles and various people in pastels, florals, and three piece suits in the living room. He furrowed his eyebrows over his bleary eyes as he shuffled forward, the sound of British reporters meeting his ears.

His meister came into view as he moved into the living room. She sat in her pyjamas, cross-legged on the couch, her green eyes wide on the screen.

She caught his movement out of the corner of her eye and jumped a little, turning to him.

Soul closed one eye at the brightness of the TV, “What the hell is going on?” He asked, his voice croaky from sleep.

He swore he saw a pink tint in Maka’s cheeks as she pulled her knees to her chest, smiling sheepishly, “It’s… It’s the Royal Wedding.” She explained.

Soul looked back at the television where it showed people decked out in blue, white, and red lining a long dirt road.

He blew a short breath out of his nose, his eyes adjusting to the glare of the TV.

“I’m sorry for waking you up, I can turn down the volume.” She offered, looking around her for the remote.

Soul strolled the rest of the way into the living room, shrugging, “S’okay.” He mumbled, waving a hand to signal for her to move over.

Maka complied and Soul sat down beside her heavily, propping his feet up on the coffee table and slouching down to lean his head back.

They watched reporters converse about their speculations on the bride’s dress and the behaviour of the pageboys.

Soul glanced at his star struck girlfriend. That word was still strange, but swirled through his head with a more pleasant aura than meister, or even partner. He thought about it again as he watched her smile a little and glance at him, “You can go back to bed.” She repeated, the assurance in her voice that she wouldn’t be mad but Soul shrugged again.

“I just didn’t know you were into all of this Royal stuff.” He pointed out, her normal personality not very telling of this possible interest. Maybe history, but pop culture royalty? He would never have suspected.

Maka seemed a little hesitant to gush about this topic, but explained anyway, “It was my mom who liked the Royals, really. She watched Princess Diana’s wedding a long time ago, and before she left we watched Kate and Williams. We woke up even earlier than this to make British desserts back then.” She was wistful, but in a happy way that made Soul suspect she wasn’t longing for the past and the normal she used to have when her mom was around. That was a step in a new direction he was proud of her for.

“Of course,” Maka continued, “I don’t support imperialism in the slightest, and the unnecessary classism that modern royalty imposes goes against constitutionalism and proper democracy, but…” She sighed, stretching out, her legs falling over his lap, “I can’t help it, I love the tiaras.”

Soul let a smile slip onto his face. There she was. 

An image of a redheaded man and a cocoa skinned girl reclined comfortably together on the screen and Maka pointed a finger, “That’s Prince Harry and that’s Meghan Markle.”  
Soul nodded a little, eyes coming in and out of focus in his still-sleepy state, “Why the hell are they getting married so early?” He wondered, crossing his arms over his chest and yawning wide.

He didn’t look but knew the next stretch of silence was Maka taking her sweet time to roll her eyes at his statement.

She nudged her foot against his leg, “Time zones, Soul.” She reminded, “It’s 11 am there.” She looked down at her watch, “Actually, about 11:24.” She corrected, wiggling a little beside him, “Which means it’s almost wedding time!” She squeaked, sinking down lower against the arm rest, her knees folding up between them as she rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

Suddenly she sat up, “Ohh. We should make tea!” She exclaimed, bouncing to her feet and into the kitchen.

Soul sighed a little, watching the images flick from the castle again, to the fields of people, to the reporters in their flowered bungalow.

Maka gasped a little, “Oh no!” And Soul craned his head over his shoulder and the couch back, peering into the dark kitchen.

She stuck out her bottom lip, “We’re out of English Breakfast.”

Soul relaxed his neck, turning back to glance at the TV, “Oh no, how will we ever survive.” He mocked, smirking a little to himself at the silence that revealed her tense annoyance.

“Well we can’t celebrate a British Royal marriage with Orange Pekoe. We’re not animals.” She said in exasperation, the tin dropping to the counter with a piercing clang in earliness of the morning, “I’ll have to run out and get some more.” She suggested, walking quickly to her room, checking her watch, “I still have 30 minutes until it actually starts. That should be plenty of time.” Her neurotic mumblings muffled as she ducked into her room.

Soul sighed a little and sat up, standing from the couch and stretching before going to the door.

He slipped on his shoes and was adjusting his jacket as Maka marched out of her room and almost got to her shoes before she noticed him standing there with keys in hand.

She started a little.

Before she could say anything, Soul zipping up his coat, “I got this.” He assured.

Maka furrowed her eyebrows a little, opening her mouth to retort when he interrupted again, “Don’t make this about being an independent woman, from these reports, Meghan has it under control. Just stay and make sure none of the pageboys trip.” 

Maka pursed her lips, challenge quickly fading into glee. She handed him a 20 and lifted herself on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek, “You’re the best.” She smiled, shedding her jacket and running back to the couch.

He smiled as she settled, and he ducked out the door, locking it firmly behind him.

Soul suck his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.

He wasn’t in the habit of leaving the house in his pajamas, but at 6:30 in the morning he highly doubted that he would see anyone he knew.

The air was brisk, but not cold by any standards as he pushed out of their apartment complex and down the street.

Few cars drove down the road and he wondered where all of these crazy people would be going at 6:30 on a Saturday morning, before realizing he was one of those crazy people too.

A small smirk invaded his face as he strolled, tucking his chin to watch his feet propel him forward on the sidewalk. Of course it was because of his partner that he was out here. In no other universe would he be voluntarily leaving the house at the ass crack of dawn to pick up breakfast for a girl – hell, any one for that matter, but Maka was different. Soul did things without thinking. Despite the selfishness that came as a natural defense mechanism, he couldn’t help but find the motivation in him every time Maka was slightly put off to square up for her (despite the fact that she would most definitely put up a better fight than him), or go running out the door to rent the movie she was dying to see.  
She didn’t know this, of course, he’d never show how eager he was to please her, but sometimes it slipped through his nonchalant demeanor. A chaste kiss on the cheek was more than he needed. Seeing her joyfully bound back to the couch to watch a bunch of British people judge the outrageous headpieces of other British people was more than enough to inspire a spring in his step. The funny way she’d looked at him in surprise was just an added bonus.

He ran a hand through his hair as he approached the first open bakery on the street. He sucked in a calming breath to wipe away the goofy smile that had found its way onto his face thinking about his stupid meister in her stupid cupcake pyjama’s curled up on the couch to watch the broadcast of a stupid British wedding.

Soul waited in the two person line to order two English Breakfast teas, two bagels, and, for good measure, two of the most British pastries they had – cinnamon scones.

He balanced the hot teas and took the paper bag of food with a thanks and pushed back out of the door, the sun glaring brightly now over the horizon and on the still deserted streets of Death City. Apparently everyone else had stocked up to stay in this morning to watch the Royal Wedding. That, or he and his partner were the only two watching it instead of sleeping.

Soul kind of envied the people whose girlfriends had no idea where England even was… Kind of.

Soul trudged back towards the apartment, the tea he held becoming increasingly warm through the sleeve tucked over it and he took a moment to juggle the items around in his hands before he continued.

Another juggle when he re-entered the apartment complex, and one more to unlock the door before he could kick it shut with a sigh and place the goodies on the counter.

Maka didn’t peel her eyes away from the TV as he shed his shoes and jacket, simply reaching her arm out to beacon him over, “You’re just in time, the Queen showed up 5 minutes ago and Meghan is driving up the long walk.” She shifted back to the left of the couch as he brought the teas and bag over.

As the camera switched back to the reporters, she looked over at him, taking the tea he handed her and bringing it close to her face to inhale, closing her eyes and relaxing her shoulders with a long sigh, “Perfect.” She opened her eyes and beamed at him as he sat back next to her, “Thank you.”

Soul shrugged, “No problem.” He resisted the urge to tease her about her unimpaired excitement over this. And it was rewarded with another kiss, this one gently placed on his lips.

She pulled back and lingered a fraction of an inch away from him for just a moment, playfulness glinting in her eyes, “You haven’t brushed your teeth yet.” She giggled, kissing him again with a goodnatured smiled to prove that she was just trying to get under his skin.

He pulled back from her, “Ya, ya…” He muttered, letting her turn her attention back to the TV.

The bright sun was shining through the window now, and as Soul looked at the rapture on Maka’s face his heart skipped a beat, the glow of the sun haloing her and shining through her wheat-blonde hair.

His eyes trailed over the curve of her nose and he was jostled back to reality as Maka squealed, reaching out to grip his bicep.

He turned his attention back to the TV as the car pulled up in front of the main doors.

“I am so excited to see her dress.” Maka breathed, her paper cup hovering an inch away from her face, eyes blow wide in anticipation and mouth slack.

Soul smirked, “Looking for night gown inspiration?” He teased, but she ignored him, this skill expertly employed by his meister who had been honing it for years. Maka wasn’t a girly-girl by any definition of the word, so he was a little shocked to see this undivided wonder from the girl just for a dress.

Finally, after the two little boys had jumped out of the car, Meghan ducked out.

Maka’s hand clawed at his arm. She set her drink down quickly and moved closer to him. Soul laughed a little at the way she looped her arm through his, absentmindedly looking to hold onto an anchor, he assumed, to keep her from floating out of their apartment and all of the way to Windsor.

When she stood tall, her veil splayed out behind her, Maka sighed, releasing him and getting to her feet, “Wow.” She exclaimed, “Such a simple, classic dress.” 

Soul snorted at her as she sighed again, reaching down and pawing through the bag of food, picking out her whole wheat bagel and sitting back heavily, “It’s so her.”

Soul watched her with scrutiny, narrowing his eyes, “You don’t even know her.” He pointed out.

Maka shook her head, biting into the bagel, “That’s the perfect length of train.” She pointed out, mouth full, “The veil might get snagged somewhere but it isn’t nearly as risky as a long train on a dress.”

Soul cocked an eyebrow and grabbed his own bagel, “You sound like Black*Star watching sports. I’m almost convinced you know what you’re talking about.” He snickered as he sat back and she sent him a dirty look.

They watched her ascend into the chapel and Soul winced at the Soprano, “Couldn’t they have gotten the little boy choir to sing this?” He wondered.

Maka shrugged, “I guess this is how it’s supposed to sound?”

Maka’s next gasp was at the boughs of greenery and flowers arching over the door to the inner choir area of the chapel, “I want that when I get married.” She pouted, flinging sesame seeds with the gesture of her bagel.

The small parade of children holding hands inspired the next one, “I want those.” She whined, “Look at how adorable they are holding hands like that.”

Soul knew she wasn’t really talking to him, but was glad she didn’t have to mutter this to herself in the morning light while trying not to wake him in the next room.

Once the formalities started, Maka relaxed, “What do you think? Should I train a troupe of children to follow me up the aisle when I get married?”

This was addressed at him so he turned his attention to her, “I think you’ll have a hard time finding kids as well behaved as this.” He reminded.

Maka grumbled a little, wiping cream cheese off of the corner of her mouth and tossing the empty bagel wrapper on the table, “Fair point…” Then she looked at him again, “Do you think Black*Star would be your best man?”

Soul shrugged a little, not really watching her, not really watching the TV, “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never put much thought into it.”

Soul saw Maka blink at him from the corner of his eye before she sat back and crossed her arms, looking at the TV again, the excitement radiating from her quelling suddenly. 

Soul felt like a gate had just dropped between them, metal bars block him from her and he turned to smooth over the situation, knowing the exact way he’d gone wrong back there.

“It’s not that I’ve never thought about our future.” He reiterated, running a hand through his hair to try and choose careful words, “It’s just-“ He looked over her side profile, with anyone else, he would be embarrassed and reluctant to reveal too much, but with Maka he knew there was no judgement from her and everything he revealed to her was cherished and remembered in the same way he held onto the hopes and dreams she’d shared with him over the years, “It’s just that our lives are so uncertain. Who knows what battles we’ll win… And which ones we won’t.”

These sobering words brought Maka back to him and she bit her cheek, looking at his sincere face under his dark circles and tightly drawn mouth. She sighed and curled closer to him, sliding her hand down to twine with his comfortingly.

Ever since they started dating those few months ago, he’d been nervous about being intimate with her. Not because he was bad at intimacy (which, he had to admit, sometimes he was), but because he had spent so long holding his feeling back, stopping himself from holding her hand, or brushing hair off of her face that he couldn’t get used to acting on those urges without fear of repercussions.

In the last year, he’d suspected that Maka’s feeling had changed from seeing him only as a friend, because she was a lot worse at burying her emotions and urges. She would look at him differently, nuzzling close to him on the motorcycle, she’d even started squeezing his hand instinctively and quickly letting go when she’d realized what she’d done, her cheeks would blaze red at every stupid emotional wrong move she made.

Finally, after weeks of believing that it could never be true and Maka could never actually like him like that she kissed him.

Soul had done something stupid like offer her his jacket and before he knew it, she was on her toes with her arms wrapped around his neck. Soul still wasn’t convinced she knew just how badly he had fallen for her, or the length of time he’d spent in agony over the curve of her neck and the melody of her laugh and he’d prefer to keep it that way.

Their partnership had been so close to a relationship that it was an easy transition. One of the easiest emotions he’d ever felt was loving Maka, but he’d never give her the satisfaction of knowing that.

Soul squeezed her hand back, though, as she rested her head on his shoulder and they went back to watching Harry and Meghan stare at each other in amazement and happiness at the front of the church.

Soul perked up, “Oh ya.” He reminded, leaning forward and grabbing the food bag, tossing it on her lap nonchalantly, “These were the best they had.” He muttered quickly, letting her untwine their hands to open it.

She gasped a little when she pulled out the pastry, “Scones!” She exclaimed, “I love scones!” She revealed, carefully noted by Soul.

She handed one to him and bit into her own, a content smile coming to her face as she sunk down next to him.

They watched the, slightly boring, service. Maka held his hand when Harry removed her veil, and they laughed at discomfort the enthusiasm of the American Bishop created in the snobby British guests.

His words were poignant though, and as he talked about how love was as strong as death, Maka squeezed his hand softly, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder.

Soul smiled a little, “Maybe we should get him at our wedding.” He joked, trying to break through the lovey-doviness of their current atmosphere.

Adrenaline jolted through his body when Maka lifted her head off of his shoulder and he realized why.

He had just said ‘our’ wedding.

His face was red, he could feel it, and he kept his eyes glued to the television, feeling Maka’s eyes drill into the side of his head.

This time the girl’s silence was warm and he could tell a smile was spreading across her face.

His embarrassment was flowing off of him in waves and he dared not look at her satisfied, slightly snarky smile.

Soul’s was hardly eased when she pressed a kiss to his cheek and laid her head back on his shoulder, “I think so too.” She sighed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to anyone who read. Give me tips, be my friends, my art tumblr is Bucksbegins if you want to check it out :-)


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